


You make me nervous - Oneshot

by RebelDrFerguson



Category: Fergaldi, Real Person Fiction, Scottish Actor RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Masterbation, Pizza and hotel rooms, Swearing, TLLS mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 01:30:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5397821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebelDrFerguson/pseuds/RebelDrFerguson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You wouldn't think that Craig could get nervous anymore after all these years on the TV...but one man can still make him fuck up. That one man can still make him want to fuck too. Pizza, Hotel's, and Duck's being sick abound? *shrugs*</p>
            </blockquote>





	You make me nervous - Oneshot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheMenacingDuck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMenacingDuck/gifts).



“Fancy Thai or a Pizza?” Peter asked, sitting down on the end of the bed with the room service menu as Craig dropped himself onto the bed with a hearty sigh of content, glad to be off his feet after filming nearly all day. 

 

Craig pulled his tie free and tossed it to the floor of Peter’s hotel room. “Pizza…deep pan…garlic cheese crust?” he asked hopefully, he hadn’t had time for one in ages. “Gotta have peppers on too!”  
Peter chuckled. “Pizza it is then…” 

 

Craig looked about for the TV remote, spotting it on the bedside table to his right he leaned hard over to grab it and in turn made the bed wobble. “Ou…soft, no springs…mean… no creaks…you could do a lot of dirty things on this bed.” He joked playfully, winking at the older Scot who just smirked and looked over his shoulder as he stood to type the order into the wall mounted iPad screen. “Dirty things…as in?”

Craig smiled, trying to ignore the way his heart began to race as Peter eyed him. “Well…hotel…top suite…silent bed…depends if you want your duck sicking - oohhfuck!” The tiny lack of concentration and Peter had Craig mashing his words. The younger groaned in mortification. 

“My DUCK?” Peter laughed heartily. “Did you mean dick sucking? Why…you offering?” He winked back as he pressed the order button for the pizza. The screen went green and stated 45mins.

“I…fuck don’t know what I was going to say to be honest…but that’s the fourth time you made me fuck up!” Craig pouted, recalling the times during filming the interview that Peter had him mixing his words and having the joke turned back on himself. 

The older Scot was just too quick today…or was he just too slow, he wasn’t sure. Tossing the menu back on the table Peter toed off his shoes and stood, looking down on Craig from the end of the bed with a rather wicked smirk.

“I asked…If you were offering” 

Craig gulped unsure whether to admit he was, or to just tell him move out the fucking way of the TV and keep it friendly. “Maybe…though I ain’t cheap Pete…” he muttered, a little shy. His bravado after failing his words now tilting badly. 

“Well…45mins to spare before we eat so, is that long enough, or have you forgotten how to do it?” Peter teased, reaching down and running his fingers gently up Craig’s trouser leg, pushing up the expensive material, revealing his red and yellow striped socks. 

“Nice socks…” 

Craig found some courage to smirk back now and ruffled his hair. “You know I wear them for you, Mr Sock Fetish…” 

Peter’s face went comically shocked. “Who told you that?” He playfully gasped, pretending to be affronted, and Craig laughed. 

“Socks and women…two things you’re good with.” Craig winked, referring to the clip of Fortysomething he’d been shown by Hugh last weekend, when they were talking about Benedict Cumberbatch. 

Peter went back to smirking. “Never mind socks…we were on about sucking…or sicking, whatever you want to call it.” He joked. Craig’s tongue snuck out to tease his lower lip in thought, “Flip a coin…Heads…I do you…Tails you do me?” He put down the remote and fumbled for his jacket, hands suddenly as uncooperative as his mouth.   
Peter tugged his trouser leg and he stopped. “Na…I think you’re a bit stressed after all that, think it’s only fair I do you first…” Peter offered, now climbing on to the bed to kneel over Craig. 

Craig let himself relax into the bed abandoning the remote. He heard Peter take a deep breath as his hands started to sweat. The older Scot seemed unsure where to start and Craig felt the cold air of the past trickle in. Those drunk nights. The high nights. The thunder storms and weird motels. As Peter leant down they kept eye contact, steel blues and iron greys…a storm worth waiting for, as lips met halfway a surge of electric desire ran through Craig’s body. 

Flashbacks of that sweating red head band leader that had him pinned hard to the rough wall of the hallway, his hands all over him and tugging at his belt, callous fingertips grazing his hips, teeth nipping his lips, and the way their hips would grind together trying to gain friction. 

Craig could always tell what Peter was thinking back then. Just with a glance and those pools of molten silver would spill stories. But now. He was unsure. They told of too much. Held memories good and bad. Were locked onto someone else and saved for someone else. They were fragile. A fragility and fear that he felt guilty for. 

Craig couldn’t fight the moan that eventually escaped his throat when the kiss deepened. It fuelled him to an almost instant response when Peter’s hand found itself inside his trousers. When he’d undone his belt he wasn’t sure. He was struggling to follow. He was lost at the border of memories, arousal, and nerves. Peter made him nervous. Always had. He was just so….he couldn’t pin him. So alien? He had been and still was. It was something that had him on his knees and gasping for it. Chasing it for the thrill like Crystal meth.

The feeling of Peter’s callous fingertips once more against his foreskin had sparks of nervous energy fizzing and a hand knotting itself into the bed’s covers. How long had it been? Too long. The one urge and want of feeling that he’d described as a venomous subconscious demand was alive and feeding off the aura they made together. Something his subconscious could only find…filthy.

Craig lifted his hips as Peter broke the kiss to pull down his suit trousers and boxers giving him full access to his arousal. A heat creeped to his cheeks, and not just because the room was heating up. He wasn’t 18 anymore, you shouldn’t get boners from hanging out in a hotel room with your best friend. Your best friend whom you were in a punk band with. Your best friend whom you were in a punk band with, who was now Doctor Who. 

Your best friend who had somehow gotten sexier, and more casually attractive as he’d gotten older but with no less vigour to his personality. 

“Pete…” The name was grunted in want as the older Scot kissed his hip and then proceeded to lick at the underside of his cock, lapping at the sweet spot at the tip. “Oh…god”  
Peter loved that sound. The rough Scottish rumble of Craig’s accent that mingled with the tang of the smoothed American purr in his voice. He’d missed it to the point where every syllable was pumping the blood down into his own groin.

Peter kissed slowly down the length of Craig’s cock to nuzzle into the thick mass of wiry hair surrounding it inhaling his scent. “Still there?” He purrs into the skin, making his way back up.

All Craig could do was nod. The function to speak had been cut off with the swipe of Peter’s thumb across the head of his cock. Licking his lips, Peter took the head into his mouth and sucked at the loose foreskin gently, the resulting reaction was Craig to rough a hand into his hair and moan pornographically.   
He’s always been good with his tongue. Craig still recalled those nights when multiple orgasms were on the menu because he came so fast that it hadn’t been enough to stem his want for sex and resulting in many a high pitched keen of pleasure when a much stronger second orgasm ran through him. 

As Peter sucked, Craig could see him grinding his hips to the bed, unable to fight his own need for friction. Minutes ticked by and more moans filled the sweat damping air as shirts came off, followed by Peter’s underwear and an interestingly arousing moment of the older Scot humping his leg sucking on his balls as he lay sat up against the headboard.  
“Oh…I’m getting close” The words he’d never thought he’d hear coming from Peter first. “Come here then…” Craig tugged him up and Peter straddled him while he took Peter’s cock in his mouth, deep throating him like he did it every day. 

“Oh fuck Craig!”

Craig grasped Peter’s hips as he shook and the older Scot’s fingers tangled in his hair. The high pitched whimper of pleasure mixed with surprise and relief that echoed off the walls as Peter came in his mouth was intense in too many ways. So many ways that once he’d licked him clean he pushed Peter down on his back and straddled the man’s chest, stroking himself hurriedly.

He grunted as he fought to get off, he was there but..just…not…it was maddening. “Fuck…I’m going to come on that pretty face…” He smirked as Peter grinned wolfishly and ran his hands up Craig’s thighs. 

“Need a hand?” Peter muttered, as his fingers snuck up between Craig’s legs and Craig moaned quietly at the feeling as they pushed in a little. The tweak of pain versus pleasure had his brain shut down and his orgasm rush through the gates like the London underground at rush hour. 

His eyes clamped shut automatically against the waves of relief, missing the sight of the thick stream of semen that sprayed over Peter’s cheek and ran down his throat.   
His cock was still twitching as he finally looked down to the sight. “Did anyone tell you you’re beautiful covered in cum?” He joked, and Peter slapped his thigh playfully as they moved aside. 

Peter scooped his t-shirt off the floor and wiped away the mess as Craig settled back under the covers, not in the mood to get dressed now. 

Pulling on jeans Peter padded to the mini bar to grab some drinks just as there was a knock at the door. “Room Service”

Craig smiled hugely, seemingly having forgotten they’d ordered a pizza. “Can this night get any better?” He teased and Peter laughed as he took the tray from the young man at the door. 

“As your ‘Doctor’ Adventure…your wish is my command…”

“Safety, NEVER guaranteed.” Craig chuckled back, sitting up in bed as the familiar line that just summed up their friendship once again echoed in his head.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments hating on such natures of this fanfiction will be deleted.


End file.
